


Winter in the City

by Ordered_Chaos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Because I know my audience ;), Broken Bones, Dean and Crowley are partners working in an ambulance, Emergency Medical Technicians, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Minor Injuries, Rather medical, Sass, Slight Drowley, possible sqwick factor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordered_Chaos/pseuds/Ordered_Chaos
Summary: Winter in the city is a busy time for Emergency Medical Services. Partners Dean and Crowley are off to save another life.





	Winter in the City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hekate1308](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/gifts).



> A birthday fic written with love for Hekate1308. <3
> 
> I am an EMT (emergency medical technician), and drew upon my own experiences for medical and operational accuracy in this fic. The rules of HIPPA were taken into account and most of this is fictionalized.

Winter in the city is a busy time for EMS. People fall on ice, kids crash their sleds, cars spin out in the snow. And then you have the less thought-of, but no less common: homeless people with hypothermia, drunks with frostbite, and people with mental illnesses exacerbated by the dreariness of winter. If you could function on four hours of sleep over six interrupted intervals, like Dean could, you were fine. But if you were like his partner—

Crowley grumbled in the driver’s seat, crossing his arms the other way. Without opening his eyes, he said, “This bloody chair is getting worse the longer I sit in it.”

Dean chuckled. He watched a little girl fling herself onto her sled, whooping with joy as she started skidding down Bonebreak Hill. It had earned that name the same way it had earned a dedicated winter weekend ambulance: on average, seventy kids broke at least one bone here each year.

“Twenty more minutes in the post,” Dean said. “Then you’ve got a couch with your name on it.”

“It’s too cold in the base.”

“You could always sleep in the back,” Dean grinned. Crowley opened his eyes, making a noise of disgust.

“I wouldn’t sleep back there even if you were sleeping with me, darling.”

Dean laughed, wiggling his hips awkwardly in his seat. “What, I’m not sexy enough to make you forget about the blood and shit back there?”

Crowley turned a disdainful gaze to the snow outside. “Regrettably, no.”

The tones went off, a long, single note from the radio. Crowley muttered, “Bollocks,” and reached for the radio. Dean sat up straighter in his seat, pulling on his seatbelt.

“Ambulance 21, Engine 8,” said the dispatcher. “Ambulance 21, Engine 8 respond outside 501 Chestnut street for the fall. Sixty-seven year old female, breathing. That’s 501 Chestnut street for the fall.”

Crowley waited for the radio to click back to silence before bringing it to his mouth and responding, “Ambulance 21 to 501 Chestnut for the fall.”

He flipped the emergency lights on, twiddled the siren knob, and shoved the gearshift into drive. Dean opened the computer to start the documentation.

“Okay but the next one won’t going to be a fall,” he said to Crowley over the wail of the sirens above them.

“Tell yourself that, Dean,” Crowley answered. He slowed down at the intersection just outside the park, checking out his window. Dean did the same with his own.

“You’re clear.”

Crowley revved the truck through the intersection. Their ETA for 501 Chestnut was less than four minutes. So of course, Sam chose that moment to call. Dean’s phone started buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out.

“We’re on a response, Sam,” he said in lieu of greeting.

“I can hear that,” Sam said. “Can I stop by the base later?”

“Sure,” Dean shouted back and hung up.

Crowley slowed at another crossing. “Moose coming over again?”

“You’re good. I should really tell him Ruby ain’t interested,” Dean mused.

“Let him flounder,” Crowley said. “Has he noticed Jessica yet?”

“Nope,” Dean said. “I’m one missed puppy-dog look away from just telling him.”

Crowley hit the brakes again as they turned onto Chestnut St. “Is it the yellow one with the swing set?” he asked.

“No, that’s—”

A woman was standing in the street in front of a parked van, two telephone poles ahead of them, waving her arms frantically.

“Apparently it’s the blue one with the big tree,” Dean said. This was the richer part of town, where people had yards and fences, but needed EMS just as often.

Crowley parked, but left the emergency lights on. They’d beaten Fire here. Dean opened his door as soon as they were stopped, grabbed the bright red jump bag and some collars from the back, and headed around the truck to the woman.

“She’s over here,” the woman said unnecessarily, because now that he was on the sidewalk, Dean could see the elderly black woman sitting against the parked van’s tire.

Dean approached, pulling on his gloves. The woman was sitting upright, not slouching to either side. There was no gross trauma to her face or head that he could see, though she was wearing a thick trapper hat that had hopefully absorbed any impact. He could see no obvious deformity to her legs, but she was holding her left arm tight against her chest.

“Hello, ma’am,” he said as he got closer. “My name’s Dean. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“What?” the woman asked him.

Dean spoke up. “I’m Dean. What hurts?”

“My hand,” the woman said, looking down at it.

“Can I see?” Dean asked.

She bit her lip and let her right arm fall, showing him the left.

“That can’t feel too good, huh?” Dean said calmly. Her wrist was curved, obviously broken in at least two places and swollen twice the thickness of the other. The woman averted her eyes. Dean gently placed his fingers on the inside of her shattered wrist.

“Watch it, boy!” she snapped, but Dean could feel what he was looking for. A strong pulse, steady even distal to the break, which meant she wasn’t in danger of losing the hand. Yet.

“I have to check if it’s cutting off your circulation,” Dean said. “That can happen with a break like this.” He squeezed her middle finger. “Can you feel that?”

“Boy, I can feel everything. And it does not feel good.”

“I believe you,” Dean said. “Are you able to move your fingers?”

She grimaced, glaring down at her hand, and twitched her fingertips.

“Good enough,” Dean said because it was obviously causing her pain. “You can stop.”

“This godforsaken ice,” she said, holding her hand against her chest again. “I’m moving to Florida.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean said. He reached out, now palpating her head for any tenderness or swelling. “Anything else hurt, ma’am?”

“Just that.” Her eyes pointed at the arm.

Dean nodded. “Did you hit your head? Does your back or neck hurt?” Two shakes.

Dean helped her to sit forward a little so that he could run his fingers down her spine, checking for pain or swelling through her heavy coat. He had to press pretty hard, but she didn’t seem to mind. Behind him, he could hear Crowley talking to the woman who had hailed them.

“Do you know her, miss?”

“I just saw it. I was jogging.”

“And you called 911?” Crowley asked.

The woman tsked her tongue. “Can we get going? My behind is freezing off.”

“I just have to make sure nothing else is hurt before we move you,” Dean said. He peered into her eyes. There was no need for a penlight with the sun glare everywhere. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Missouri,” she said. “Nothing else is hurt, I’m telling you.”

“I’m glad,” Dean said. “How did you fall?”

She looked at him like he had just spit at her. “The ice, boy.”

“You didn’t black out? Feel dizzy?”

“God, no,” Missouri said, sniffing.

“And how about now? Do you feel nauseous?” He placed his hand against her neck, measuring.

“Just freezing,” she muttered.

“Were you feeling sick at all earlier today?” Dean asked.

“I was in perfect health until the ground decided to step on _me_ ,” Missouri said.

“The ground rising up,” Dean said, pulling his chosen C-collar out of its bag. “That’s terrifying.”

“You telling me,” Missouri said, raising her eyebrows at her broken wrist.

Dean showed her the collar. “I have to put this on your neck now, ma’am,” he said.

“My neck doesn't hurt,” she repeated.

“I know, and I don’t think you hurt it. But you did suffer a fall with related injuries, and our protocol requires—”

“Fine, fine,” Missouri snapped. “Just do it quick.”

Dean nodded, fastening the plastic collar around her neck.

“That’s one nasty fashion statement,” Missouri said. “And I can’t even see it.”

“You look lovely, miss,” Crowley said, coming over. “Even the collar can’t hide that.”

Missouri raised an eyebrow again.

“This is my partner, Crowley,” Dean said, checking the collar was on straight. “He’s full of it.”

“Full of sweet words and sarcasm,” Crowley said. He crouched next to Dean and opened the jump bag. “Can never tell which, though.”

“We’re gonna need a splint,” Dean told him. Crowley nodded.

“It’s certainly getting warmer now,” Missouri said, hooding her eyes and smirking at Crowley.

He smiled. “I’ll return in just a moment.”

“Gone too soon,” Missouri sighed, watching his backside.

“He’s going to get our splinting supplies,” Dean said. “We’ll wrap your wrist up nice and secure, and that way it won’t hurt as much on the way to the hospital. You do want us to drive you, right?”

“Well I ain’t walking,” Missouri said.

Dean grinned. “Just checking.”

The fire engine pulled around the corner onto Chestnut Street. Dean waved to them, resisting the eyeroll that felt very appropriate. They parked behind the ambulance and unloaded. Two guys came over to where Dean and Missouri were behind the van.

“Took you long enough,” Missouri said, which was what Dean had held back from saying. He pretended to be inspecting her arm to hide his grin.

“How are you feeling, ma’am?” one firefighter-EMT said, unabashed.

“Was there some kitten in a tree more important than me?” Missouri asked.

“That rhymes,” Dean pointed out to her. “They were coming from much further than we were.”

“Uh-huh,” Missouri said.

Crowley returned with the splinting bag and the other two firefighters, who each had one hand on the stretcher.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Dean said, bringing Missouri’s eyes back to him. “This is gonna suck.”

She pursed her lips. “Well I never had children, so I guess I’m due for a pain test.”

“We’ll be as gentle and as quick as we can, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, hon,” Missouri said. “Ya’ll do this for a living. Just get it over with.”

Crowley came to kneel beside Dean. He took careful hold of Missouri’s arm above and below the break.

“If I knew all I had to do to get a handsome man to hold my hand was break it, I’d’ve done this years ago,” Missouri mused.

“If I’d known I’d spend today holding a fine lady’s hand, I would have shaved,” Crowley returned.

“He doesn’t shave for just anyone,” Dean interjected, laying out the supplies he needed.

“God forbid you ever shave this masterpiece,” Missouri told him, gesturing at his beard with her unbroken hand. “I wouldn’t have you shave for the Queen herself.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I see her.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to lay this board under your arm,” Dean said, “and Crowley’s going to hold it.”

“Just do it, hon. As long as he doesn’t let go of my hand.”

Dean grinned as Crowley bowed his head in reverence. Neither of them really had to look anymore when doing this; they had done it so many times. Crowley scooped up the padded board splint when Dean passed it to him, holding it to Missouri’s arm without even jostling her.

Because of the deformity from the break, though, there was a sizeable gap between her arm and the board. With Crowley gently holding her arm at eye level, Dean slid several rolls of gauze into the space. When he was satisfied, he tied it all in place.

“How’s that feel?” Dean asked Missouri.

She inspected the splint. “You must do this in your spare time because that’s a work of art.”

Dean grinned. “That was the hard part. Now we’re just gonna sling it to your chest to stop it moving around on the road.”

Applying a sling required a kind of dance between partners. Crowley held her arm across her chest, with her hand pointing toward the opposite shoulder, and Dean wove the triangle bandage under the arm and around her shoulders, careful not to put pressure on the break. When he finished, he checked her pulse again, and Crowley let go.

“Awesome,” Dean said. “Ready to go?”

“Boy, my butt left us ten minutes ago.”

“Mine too,” said Crowley.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Missouri said severely.

They helped boost her to her feet, Fire milling around them. Missouri sat herself down on the stretcher and watched them with interest as they fastened the seatbelts over her. Once she was secure, they rolled her carefully across the icy street with Fire spotting just in case one of them slipped. When it came time to load the stretcher, with Missouri on it, into the ambulance, Dean went to stand at her feet, Crowley at her head.

“On three,” Dean said, even though they didn’t need to speak to coordinate this anymore. It was for the patient’s sake mostly.

“One, two, three.” He pulled the trigger and together he and Crowley lifted the stretcher to its highest level. Crowley came to stand at Missouri’s side while Dean stayed where he was.

Missouri realized what they were going to do. “You’re not gonna to lift me yourself?”

“Gotta get you into the truck,” Dean said, bending his knees and flashing a smile.

“Hon, I think I weigh a bit more than this stretcher does empty.”

“Trust me, you’re tiny compared to what we lift all day,” Dean reassured her. “I got you.”

Missouri nodded her permission. Dean wrapped his hands around the end of the stretcher, grinned at her once more, and then in one smooth motion, boosted the stretcher into the air. Crowley lifted the wheels up, and a moment later Missouri was locked in and ready to roll. Dean hopped in after her.

“Whoa,” she said, gripping the siderail very tightly with her good arm.

“Was it that surprising?” Dean asked as Crowley shut the door and went around to the front.

She took a deep breath. “You made that look easy,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Dean’s arms.

He shrugged modestly. “I have lots of practice, that’s all.”

“Shame it’s winter,” she said. “I’d’ve liked to see those muscles when you lifted me.” Dean blushed and she noticed. “You are just too cute.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

“You’re having too much fun back there,” Crowley said from the front, closing his door.

Still grinning, Dean reached for the blood pressure cuff on the bench beside him. “Is it okay if I take your vitals before we go?”

“Hell yeah, hon,” she said, winking. “But it might be a little high right now, what with present company.”

Dean took her pulse and blood pressure, then called up to Crowley that they were ready to roll. Since Missouri was a stable patient, they could take the extra minute to do vitals without every bump in the road sounding and feeling like a heartbeat.

Crowley stopped chatting with the firefighters out his window and pulled away from the curb. The ride was only about ten minutes, even though Crowley didn’t like to drive fast. He was the better pick to drive a patient with pain, while Dean was a better pick to drive a patient for whom time counted. On the ride, Dean and Missouri kept up the banter. It was a welcome distraction from her pain, and Dean felt that if he could stay on good terms with his patients, it made his job a whole hell of a lot easier.

Five minutes from the hospital, Dean called them on the radio to let them know they had a patient coming.

“Sioux Falls General, this is Ambulance 21 inbound with a 67 year old—”

“Boy, I’m not a day over 40!” Missouri called, making Dean chuckle.

“—female, conscious and alert, as you probably heard, complaining of wrist pain—”

“I’ll complain of more than that,” she muttered.

“—after a fall. Gross deformity to the left wrist. No other apparent trauma. Vitals unremarkable. ETA four minutes. Any questions?”

The radio crackled for a moment before a female voice replied, “No questions, see you soon.”

“Thank you,” Dean replied, because even though they didn’t like pleasantries over the radio, it never hurt to be nice to the nurses.

“Can your partner lift as well as you can?” Missouri asked four minutes later as Crowley backed them into a parking spot in the ambulance bay.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You want him to lift you out?”

“Maybe,” Missouri said slyly.

“It’s easier to lift when you’re taller,” Dean said. “But Crowley can lift anyone I can.”

“Impressive,” she said.

“We work well together.”

“I can see that,” she said. “You both single?”

Dean sighed, “Regrettably, yes.”

Missouri met his eyes. “Nothing regrettable about it, hon.”

Before Dean could ask what she meant, Crowley opened the back doors.

“How was the trip?” he asked. “You guys conspiring back here?”

“Actually, yeah,” Dean said, hopping out of the back. He made a mock bow and said, “The lady requests that you lift her out to prove your manly manliness.”

Crowley gave a put-upon sigh. “If it was anyone other than you, love.”

He pulled the stretcher out, supporting it while Dean lowered the wheels. Together they brought Missouri into the ED, where a triage nurse was waiting. They checked her in, wheeled her to her assigned room, and helped her into the bed.

“I’ll miss you boys,” Missouri said, signing the paperwork for Dean. “It was mostly worth this.” She indicated her broken wrist.

Dean grinned. “I had a great time, so no offense, but I hope I don’t see you again anytime soon.”

She laughed and said, “Maybe in a bar, but definitely not in the back of your truck.”

Dean winked at her.

“It has been an honor,” Crowley told her, bowing.

“You keep that beard no matter what they tell you,” Missouri said.

“As the lady wishes.”

They rolled their stretcher out, cleaned it off, changed the sheet because Dean didn’t feel right using the same sheet for two patients, and brought it back to the ambulance.

“She was a riot,” Crowley said as they got in.

Dean grinned. “Gotta love the old ladies.”

“How dare you call her old,” Crowley said, pulling out of the bay. “She wasn’t a day over 40.”

Dean rubbed his forehead. “The whole city probably heard that.”

“Yep,” Crowley said with relish.

They shared an amused silence while Dean finished documenting the call.

“Think they’ll let me get away with writing our patient was a ‘definitely-40-year-old female sass-master?” Dean asked.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Dean chucked to himself and sent in his report, sass-masterless. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

“Alright, but the next one won’t be a fall.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm undecided as to whether I want to turn this into a series or a multi-chapter. Let me know in the comments if you have a strong opinion either way.


End file.
